Reign Of The Daikaiju
by Thanos6
Summary: As monsters flood the world and chaos grows, humanity struggles to solve the mystery of their origins...before it is too late...
1. Chapter 1

REIGN OF THE DAIKAIJU  
  
Hello all. A Writer's Block as big as Joe Don Baker has settled on my brain, which is why my DBZ and Spidey fics haven't been updated in so long, though my Reformers stories over at www.fictionpress.net still get updated. Because of this block, I'm trying something new: writing a Godzilla story. Hopefully it'll help break the block.  
  
As to which movies have taken place in this story, only two have: the original film, and Godzilla 1985 (which actually took place in 1984).  
  
I hope you enjoy...and even if you don't, please review.  
  
---  
  
Jonathan Cooper (the third, though he rarely bothered to add the Roman numerals to the end of his name) was in a happy mood. And this was a rare thing.  
  
He was too cynical for his age (which he always gave as "thirty-something" whenever asked), thanks no doubt to his experiences as a reporter. In one story after another, he'd been dragged all through the seedy side of human nature, until he'd gotten to automatically suspect the worst of people and look for their hidden darkness; practically everyone had some. He'd realized he was probably too bitter for it to be healthy.  
  
So his being happy was rare. But happy he was, because he was currently doing one of the few things that still brought joy to his heart--exposing phonies and con-men for what they were, and stopping people from being swindled.  
  
He pushed open the splintering wooden door of his office, and settled down in his chair that was definitely overdue for an oiling. Before he could even unlock the drawer that contained his notes on the current swindlers he was eagerly trying to bust open, he saw a note on his desk.  
  
"Jonathan--See me. Greg."  
  
***  
  
Jonathan opened the slightly less splintered door of the owner of the SANTA FE STATEMENT, Gregory Garreau. "You wanted to see me, boss?"  
  
"Ah, Jonathan. Come in." Gregory Garreau was approaching the end of his forties, if he hadn't passed them already. His hair was speckled with gray and his stomach showed evidence of a few too many evening beers. He also frequently forgot to shave, giving him a permanent five o'clock shadow. Combined with the light of dawn filtering in through the blinds, it gave him the appearance of a sinister mob boss planning new evils at his desk, which was utterly at odds with his real personality.  
  
Gregory gestured at a chair, but Jonathan remained standing, as he usually did; the vinyl on that particular chair had a way of sticking to his pants. "Whatcha need?"  
  
"I wanted to let you know that I'm taking you off the Church of Kaiju case."  
  
In an instant, the reporter was leaning over the paper-covered desk, his face contorted. "WHAT?! But I'm about to crush Kagaku! About to reveal him for the swindling FRAUD he is!"  
  
"Calm down, boy, calm down!" When he had gotten his breath back, the boss continued. "It's only temporary. I need you to cover another story, then when it's over you can get right back on Kagaku, I promise."  
  
Jonathan sighed, blowing his hair. "Fine, fine. What story?"  
  
"The anniversaries of Godzilla's attacks."  
  
That perked the younger man's interest. He'd almost forgotten. It was 2004; 50 years ago, the great and terrible reptilian beast called Godzilla had first appeared to shock the world and devastate Tokyo. 20 years ago, he'd reappeared and once again left his mark on the capital of Japan, before finally being lured to and trapped in the volcanic Mount Mihara.  
  
"But why me, boss? Why not someone else?"  
  
"Because, sad to say, you're the closest we have to an expert on Japan, which is where you'll be going."  
  
"But...but my story...it could wither and die while I'm there..."  
  
Gregory chuckled. "No it won't, boy. I'll keep after it for you, I won't let it slip away. I'll keep trailing Kagaku for you."  
  
Jonathan gave up. "OK. When do I go?" In response, Gregory simply picked up one of the items on his desk and handed it to him. It was an airplane ticket, marked for tomorrow afternoon. "Tomorrow?!"  
  
"Yep. That's why I'm giving you the day off to get ready. Enjoy the Land of the Rising Sun." He made a brief motion with his hands, as if to shoo him out of his office, and smiled. The reporter left, slamming the door behind him. "Such a temper on that boy."  
  
***  
  
As he drove his cramped Volvo through the mostly empty streets of Santa Fe at dawn, Jonathan reflected on the odd situation he was in. Ten years ago, he never would have been able to go to Japan; he'd been limited to New Mexico and, if he really stretched, Arizona. He'd been less bitter in those days, and Gregory hadn't had as much gray in his hair. The SANTA FE STATEMENT was just your typical city paper.  
  
Until Gregory had hit the lottery for twenty million dollars. That had certainly changed things somewhat.  
  
Suddenly the reporter found himself chasing stories all around the country as the paper's scope expanded, even asking questions once or twice at White House press conferences. He'd gained an odd status that was a mixture of well-known and obscure, if that wasn't some kind of paradox, and he found it helpful that he could take advantage of either status at will.  
  
And now Japan...well, it fit, he mused as he drove. The case he was--HAD BEEN working on involved Japan as well. A Japanese man calling himself Bishop Kagaku had formed what he called the Church of Kaiju. The members of this cult believed that the gods were giant monsters much like Godzilla, and that soon the apocalypse would happen, the gods would come to Earth, and all humanity would die. But in the afterlife, believers would be given "god-bodies" and become peers of the gods.  
  
Oddly enough, Kagaku claimed that Godzilla himself was NOT a god, but rather a warning sent by the gods that mankind should not meddle in certain oddities. Or, Jonathan considered, perhaps it wasn't so odd; you wouldn't want to claim as a god a creature that was currently trapped in a volcano.  
  
Bishop Kagaku himself was an oddly charismatic man from what he'd heard, but to him he just seemed like a 21st century of Jim Jones. He just hoped that this wouldn't end up as bad.  
  
"Rest in peace, Jim Ryan," he muttered as he pulled into the driveway of his modest house. He unlocked the door, patted his cat Clive on the head, and went to his room. He supposed he should get to packing.  
  
But he always WAS a fast packer.  
  
So instead he put his pajamas on, climbed into bed, and went back to sleep. 


	2. Chapter 2

"Damn damn damn!"  
  
Dr. Reijiro Koroku slammed the door of his apartment behind him. He began to rip off his suit and, unusually for this normally highly organized mind, simply threw it to the floor. He stormed to his closet and threw on his most comfortable kimono, then he headed for the kitchen and began to make some sashimi.  
  
All on automatic pilot; his conscious mind was otherwise occupied. It was boiling over with anger.  
  
He couldn't BELIEVE he'd been passed up! He thought for sure he'd win the funding from the Dr. Kyohei Yamane Foundation! Not only had he done some excellent work and come up with an intriguing theory, but his former mentor, the famous Dr. Hayashida, had submitted a personal recommendation that he be awarded the money.  
  
But, incredibly, the committee had chosen otherwise. And that wasn't even the worst part of it. The worst part was who they'd chosen over him.  
  
The Foundation had instead chosen to trust in Dr. Katari Gimansha, his old rival. They'd been squaring off as long as he could remember. Unlike the mutual respect that many rivals developed for each other, they instead had developed a mutual emnity over the years. And so the pain of losing to him was all the more bitter.  
  
The anger beginning to fade, he sighed and poured himself some sake. He then took his meal and drink to the table and began to dine. As he lifted the chopsticks to his mouth, he began to muse.  
  
He'd been employed at the Hayashida Bioscience Institute 20 years ago when Godzilla had returned to Tokyo. He'd helped Dr. Hayashida in the construction of the machine that lured the creature away, and was assisting in its operation when Godzilla tumbled into Mount Mihara. In the aftermath, he--like everyone involved in that operation--had risen quickly through the ranks of Japanese scientists. He'd become one of Japan's top biologists, working on many projects. His latest, the one he'd presented to the Foundation, actually involved Godzilla.  
  
Studying cells recovered after the attack, and preserved in cold storage, he'd been at hard work trying to create a new kind of infectious agent. This hypothetical antigen would attack the monster, if not killing him than at least weakening him enough where conventional forces could finish him off. That way, if he ever escaped his volcanic imprisonment, casualities could be limited.  
  
He didn't have this antigen yet; Godzilla's genetic structure had proven to be curiously complicated. But he had a feeling he was getting close, and he had had no doubt that with the additional funding he could have completed it.  
  
Now, though...now that Gimansha had gotten the money instead...it might be YEARS before he could finish.  
  
He finished his sashimi. Rising, his sake in one hand, he walked over to the window. As he gazed out it, his mood brightened a little bit. Tokyo at sunset...this was his favorite view. His eyes traveled from one tower of glass to another. He continued to silently stare at the view for long moments, sipping from his glass every now and then. Finally, when the sun disappeared beneath the horizon and his glass was empty, Reijiro turned away from the city whose electric eyes were lighting up.  
  
As he sat the glass in the sink, for the first time unclouded by anger, he pondered the question of why Gimansha had won. His presentation hadn't seemed nearly as impressive. Had he somehow managed to acquire sensitive information on some of the committee members, and managed to blackmail them into giving him the award? He wouldn't be too surprised; his bitter enemy had resorted to such dirty tactics in the past.  
  
His eyes narrowed as his resolve grew. The award had a period of several months where it could be revoked by the Foundation. If, within those months, he could somehow uncover evidence that proved Gimansha had used dishonorable tactics, and go public with it, the committee would have no choice but to revoke the award and give it to him instead. Yes...that was what he must do.  
  
I'm good at solving scientific mysteries, he thought. Let's see how I do with human ones. 


	3. Chapter 3

As Jonathan boarded his flight from Santa Fe County Municipal Airport, he saw that he'd gotten lucky and managed to get a window seat. Too bad he was stuck in coach, with barely enough room to stretch his legs. Ah well. At least he had the window view. That was often the only thing that kept him sane on long flights. The last time he'd been stuck in an aisle seat, he'd given up three bags of peanuts and a soda to change seats with another passenger.  
  
After a few minutes of looking outside and staring at the tarmac, he sighed. Bored already. This was not a good sign.  
  
He reached into his overhead bag and pulled out his English/Japanese dictionary. He spoke fairly fluent Japanese (that was the only language that hadn't been full in college), but he decided a little helper couldn't hurt, so he'd brought this along. Now he was flipping through it, doing some last minute refreshing work.  
  
"First time to Japan?"  
  
He looked up, a bit startled. A Japanese man a few years younger than he was putting his bag in the overhead compartment and taking the aisle seat next to Jonathan.  
  
"Uh, yeah. How'd you know?"  
  
He smiled. "The dictionary. Always a dying--I mean DEAD giveaway. First-timers are constantly flipping through them to make sure they have the essential phrases right," he said in almost perfect though heavily accented English. "What's your name?" He held out his hand.  
  
The reporter took his hand and shook it. "Jonathan Cooper. The third," he added belatedly. "Yours?"  
  
"Gojoteki Gaido."  
  
"Nice to meet you, Gojoteki. Whatcha doing in the US?"  
  
"Partly vacation, partly work. I needed to do some field research on gila monsters and Mexican Beaded Lizards in their natural habitat, and I decided to enjoy myself while I was at it."  
  
"Oh, are you a scientist?"  
  
Gojoteki smiled. "Respiring--I mean, ASPIRING scientist. I'm working for one until I think I've learned enough. What about you?"  
  
"Journalist. My boss is sending me to Tokyo to cover a story."  
  
"What story?"  
  
"The anniversaries of Godzilla's attacks."  
  
The Japanese man raised an eyebrow. "Now that's a coincidence...my teacher is researching Godzilla."  
  
"Really? Who is he?"  
  
"Dr. Reijiro Koroku."  
  
Jonathan nodded. "Hmm...any chance I might be able to talk to Dr. Koroku? Ask him a few questions for my article?"  
  
"Maybe, maybe. We'll have to see when we get there."  
  
***  
  
Gregory Garreau walked into Jonathan's office, and used his master key to unlock the reporter's desk drawer. He took out a folder that had CHURCH OF KAIJU written on it in black magic marker, and was stuffed with all kinds of papers and pictures. He took it back to his office, closed the door, and began to browse.  
  
His interest was piqued, to say the least. The Church Of Kaiju was only a few years old, but it seemed to be taking off quite fast. The leader, Bishop Kagaku, seemed to be extraordinarily charismatic...and just as equally mysterious. Despite Jonathan's best efforts, he'd managed to uncover almost nothing about his past. He had simply turned up in the mid-90's and begun spreading his message.  
  
His message was almost absurdly simple. The gods had forms like Godzilla. One day soon, they would arrive and wipe out all of humanity, every last person. But in the afterlife, those who believed in the gods would be reborn, as gods themselves. Then they would be able to torment and play with the souls of non-believers.  
  
That was practically IT. It was ludicrous. But somehow it was attracting thousands of followers. But HOW? HOW?  
  
That was what Jonathan had been trying to discover. Now it was Gregory's task. His task to unravel the shroud of enigmas around Kagaku before it lead to more deaths. And without, as Jonathan had put it, "another Jim Ryan giving his life against another Jim Jones."  
  
Of course, his name was Leo Ryan, but Gregory had been too kind to correct him.  
  
***  
  
The two talked for several hours, becoming fast friends. Eventually, over the Pacific, Jonathan decided to take a nap. It was a pleasant sleep, undisturbed by turbulence or ill dreams. Except, perhaps for one.  
  
He dreamt he was awake, and looking out his window. And looking back at him was a big--no, an ENORMOUS bird, flying parallel to the plane. He closed his eyes, then opened them again and jerked his head to the window as the shock of what he was seeing hit him.  
  
But there was nothing there, just puffy white clouds, apparently undisturbed by anything. He turned to Gojoteki. "Did you see something outside?"  
  
The other man peered outside. "Nah...you just had a nightmare. Musta been a bad one, the way you jacked--JERKED your head up like that."  
  
"Yeah, guess so. How close are we to Tokyo?"  
  
"We're almost there."  
  
***  
  
Once the plane landed, the two went their separate ways, but Gojoteki promised to meet Jonathan at his hotel's lobby for breakfast the next morning. The reporter wandered the streets of Tokyo for several minutes, in awe at all the city's sights. He began to believe that this, not Paris, should be the City of Lights.  
  
Eventually he made his way to his hotel and got checked into his room, which was so cramped he began to wonder if the stereotype of narrow Japanese living space wasn't totally unfounded. He simply threw his suitcases onto one of the tables, set his alarm clock, and then simply collapsed into the bed.  
  
***  
  
Meanwhile, in the farming suburbs of Imazo...  
  
An old man walked towards his house. It had been a hard day of farming, so hard it had turned into a hard night. He would be glad to get back home, to his family, to some nice tea...  
  
A shadow blocked the moonlight.  
  
He looked up. And screamed.  
  
But just for a moment. 


End file.
